Where to Go
by Rellik 01011993
Summary: Dean has to figure out where to go and what to do after the Apocalypse.


The apocalypse is over. Fought off yet again. Dean is still standing. Always standing. But as usual, he is standing alone. Those who fought with him are gone. So he's left to pick up the pieces of his life and find a way to live. Find some reason to keep on living when everything else that was ever important is now gone. It takes him some time to remember what was important to him outside of his Hunting family.

Then he remembers his stint overseas; his first honest job other than occasionally doing mechanic work. Being a soldier was second nature to him and he found the work rewarding. The most important part of everything though, was how the other guys understood his code. The 'protect everyone and leave no one behind' code. They never spoke of it, but they all understood it.

Over the years he had kept in touch with Eliot – the one who understood him the most. The one who never judged him. That's how he wound up sitting in Eliot's "office" in the dark. Dean still couldn't believe that the merc had finally turned honest – though he would readily admit that it suited his friend. He heard the front doors of the offices open and close. Then he heard them. Eliot's family – the honest crooked people.

"Man did you see his face! Bet you he'll not try to scam anyone like that again for a good long while!" Hardison's voice drifted through the building to Dean. He could hear Nate rattling around in the kitchen, trying to find suitable celebratory snacks without thinking of alcohol. Dean understood that struggle all too well. Next he heard Parker – boasting to Sophie about how well they both did breaking into the safe.

Then he heard Eliot turning on the news and decided it was high time his old friend knew he was there. _"In a strange event that left a town with no memory but plenty of dead, we're trying to find out what actually happened…"_ Dean snuck into the room just as the names appeared on the screen. The names of the dead. His name second on the list. Eliot dropped his bottle of beer – staring at the screen. His friends watching him in concern.

"Now, before that really sinks in, you should know I'm right behind you. You can't bad mouth a dead man when he's near you…" Dean spoke softly, hoping not to startle Eliot too badly. Eliot spun, relief instantly replacing the grief in his eyes.

"Dean, you're okay. Thank anything, you're okay." He had long ago learned that the phrase _thank god_ was not one to be spoken near Dean. Eliot took the two steps that separated them and pulled Dean into a bone crushing hug. The _I'm-glad-you're-not-really-dead_ hug that they had shared both ways far too many times. Dean held still for a moment, allowing Eliot time to reassure himself that Dean was actually there.

"Alright, enough of this chick-flick crap. You got a spare beer lying around? Or maybe even some whiskey?" he asked hopefully. He could _really_ use a drink, the stronger the better. Eliot stared at him for a minute – seeing everything that Dean could always hide from Sammy. Because Eliot was used to hiding the same kind of things from others.

"Yeah man, there's a bar downstairs. Come on." He turned to go and found his friends staring at him. Waiting, hoping, for an explanation as to who the stranger was that was in their home. "This is my…my friend Dean. We go back a ways. He did the same sort of work as me for a while. Now he does stuff that scares the shit out of even me. He needs a drink, and I need a drink to hear about. We'll be back up when we're done."

Dean had tossed back two shots of whiskey before Eliot spoke. "So…you gonna tell me what it is that has that horror lurking in your eyes? Or do you need more to drink first?" To Eliot's surprise, Dean put his glass down and refused a refill. For a man who usually drank his problems away, that was a scary sign.

"I can't drink too much anymore man. My dreams are too bad now – I need to be able to wake up." He paused, trying to find the words he needed to explain things to Eliot. "The apocalypse…" Eliot's eyes widened and he made a move to stand. "Is over, don't worry about it man. We stopped it."

Eliot fell back into his chair, his bottom jaw hanging in shock. "You stopped _the apocalypse_?! And by 'we' it sounds like you needed back-up. Why didn't you call me in, man?"

Dean shook his head. "This is not a life you can get back out of once you're done. When you retire, you're immediately going either up or down. Mostly down. Besides, do you really think either side is going to play nicely with the guys trying to stop their beloved apocalypse? Those of us who fought, the life had already screwed our chances. I was not going to sign your transfer papers."


End file.
